


My Heart, My Soul

by RandomWordsAndStormyDays



Series: Better Together [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Med-Tek, Sole Survivor help Maccready find the cure for Duncan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22588660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomWordsAndStormyDays/pseuds/RandomWordsAndStormyDays
Summary: Maccready's been traveling with the Boss for a while now, and he's finally worked up the courage, or maybe the desperation, to ask her to help him navigate Med-Tek. When they finally get there thing don't go as planned, and Maccready is faced with the realization that he might never get the cure, that maybe he's going to fail Duncan just like he did Lucy.Then the Boss steps up her game, and maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to do what he couldn't.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor
Series: Better Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598071
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	My Heart, My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part in my Better Together series. You don't have to have read the first fic to understand this one, but it might help you understand the relationship the SS has with Maccready a little bit more.
> 
> I had no beta, so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

It’s been just over a week since the incident at the National Guard Training Center before Nora is rested and recovered enough to help him. Her skin is no longer ashy and pale from her massive intake of radiation, and her energy levels are back up to where they should be. Still, he worries. The Boss might be the strongest person he’s ever met, but she’s not invincible, the ferals proved that. But his worry about Duncan overpowers his worry about Nora and he follows behind her, watching her six like usual, as she leads them to what could possibly be their last mission.

He’s not actually nervous or worried until the medical center is right in front of them. It looks like any other crumbling building in the Commonwealth, overdue for a cleaning and in serious need of repair, but flashes of his pathetic attempts at fighting his way through the facility alone have him stopping in his tracks. Completely exposed in the middle of the road.

The unnatural gurgling of a dozen or more ferals, as he desperately fought of the four that had managed to crawl their way through the collapsing walls, rings in his ears, silencing the standard sounds of the Commonwealth. The hairs on the back of his neck rise as he recalls their nails, sharp as knives, digging into his skin, tearing and ripping and only making it easier for the radiation to seep into his blood. How he managed to drag his bruised and broken body out of danger and through the front door is something he may never know, now he only hopes that he’s not actually about to get them both killed.

A light touch to his shoulder has him snapping out from his thoughts. Nora is looking at him with concern, and he forces a smile onto his face, tries to relax. “Sorry, Boss.”

“Are you okay, Mac?”

“I’m fine, let’s go.”

There’s hesitation when she looks at him, her mouth parted like she has something else to say, but he presses on, walking quickly past her towards the stairs that lead inside, shoving down the growing anticipation that has started to grown in his chest, tightening around his lungs like barbed wire.

He doesn’t want to be nervous, knows that he really doesn’t need to be. Because he trusts the Boss, she knows his weakness to the radiation-mutated former humans, knows about Lucy and Duncan. He could only bring himself to tell her the bare minimum, spared from having to actually relive the experience through spoken word when she stopped him with a hug. She’s not normally a touchy person, neither is he, but the comfort he drew from their embrace was enough for him to finally get through what he needed her help with.

Her words ring in his head, _for you, I’d do anything._ He wonders how far anything goes. She already took out Winlock and Barnes from him, metaphorically releasing the final shackle that the Gunners had him cuffed with, had given him his own home in Sanctuary, with a promise to have Sturges install a second room for Duncan when he finally made the trip form the Capital Wasteland. And the fact that he hadn’t argued that scared him a little.

Maccready had never intended to stay in Boston. It’s not where he was from, far away from any friends or family that might still be alive in Big Town or anywhere else in the Capitol. Until she had said that, his plan was to leave with the cure, never come back. Sure, he had friends. Hancock would probably miss him, as soon as he came down for long enough to realize that he was gone. Daisy would notice, and the thought of making her sad has him feeling guilty, but she would understand, she wouldn’t ask him to stay. Other than that the rest of his relationships in the Commonwealth were usually confined to ‘go kill this person and I’ll pay you’ or ‘ thanks for the fuck, I never intend to see you again’. The people who hired him before the Boss never stuck around for dinner, didn’t ask him for sniper lessons, didn’t make him feel like he was no longer alone, didn’t offer to teach him to read, and manage to do it in a way that doesn’t make him feel like a complete idiot.

He refuses to give a name to the way he feels when he looks at her, or when he thinks about the way she’s helped him, or how she’s literally putting her life on the line to help his son. Maccready hasn’t felt this way since losing Lucy, the pain and hollowness inside his heart had become permanent, and he never thought that there would be anyone out there who could chip away at the calluses surrounding his soul. Never thought that he’d feel anything other than pain, worry, fear, always assumed that the bottomless pit of his failures would swallow him whole.

Nora checks in with him again, her hand placed on the door about to open it. The determination, kindness, and concern he sees there has his heart soaring, drowning out the fear that’s been swirling inside his head since they left that morning. Something in his face, or his voice when he responds, must soothe her, because the efficient and calculated look that he’s seen a hundred times overtakes everything else in her eyes, and she smiles, genuine and warm.

“Let’s kick some feral ass.”

Maccready offers her up a pleased smile in response and she pushes the door open.

The front foyer is blessedly empty, but the scent of decay is prominent, they might not be able to see or hear their enemies, but they’re there, hidden from them for now. Silence is the best method for ferals, make too much noise and they all come running, which means the Boss has her wicked knife back out, silenced pistol strapped to her thigh, and shotgun tucked against her back, for emergencies only. It also means that Maccready is feeling less useful than normal. His sniper is completely unusable in close quarters, and he left it tucked in a stash outside. Instead, he’s got a ripper, modified to be mostly silent, a pistol of his own, and a rifle slung across his back.

There’s an odd feeling inside him without his sniper, he’s had that weapon since before Duncan was born, and being without it makes him feel naked, or like he’s missing a limb. Even with that tugging at his thoughts, he manages to stay focused.

They’re rounding the corner when the telltale growl of a feral reaches his ears. Instinctively he reaches forward, tugging Nora backwards until her shotgun presses uncomfortably against his chest. Her footing stays, thankfully, and she maintains her balance. The feral stumbles around the corner, sniffing the air like a dog, but before it can spot them Nora whips out and sinks her knife into its throat. Blood sprays, coating her arm, but missing her face. She catches the body before it can fall and make more noise, and then there’s silence once again.

There’s no more problems as they walk, and before long they find their way into the airlock. He hands her the password, knowing that she’ll be able to enter it a lot faster than he could. Last time he stared at the paper, memorizing weird looking squiggly lines before finding the same weird marks on the keyboard. It took him almost ten minutes, it takes the Boss half a minute.

Wordlessly she hands him the paper back and he tucks in into the inside pocket of his duster, next to the password for the terminal that will open the elevator to the lower floors. From there, all hell breaks loose. It would be a fair argument to say that if Maccready was alone, he wouldn’t have made it.

Even with her help he goes down hard, a feral gets a nice chunk of his arm between its teeth and rips at his flesh like he’s made of wet tissue paper, and another one sinks its teeth into his side, tearing him open. By the time Nora gets them off of him he can hardly stand, pain radiates out from his entire body, and the thought of trying to move has him gasping for air. He’s barely aware of her helping him to his feet, one hand pressed tightly against the wound on his side and the other wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him from stumbling or falling. He doesn’t register where they’re walking, there’s blood in his eyes and a ringing in his ear that started when a feral has screeched right into his eardrum. It’s not until the relatively fresh air of the Commonwealth hits him does he understand.

He failed again, got further with her help than ever before, but he still failed. It’s been so long since he last tried, and almost a month since he heard from Duncan’s caretakers. If he doesn’t get the cure soon his son is going to die. And it’ll be his fault. Because he wasn’t strong enough, quick enough, skilled enough to do what he should be able to do. He’s not the father he needs to be, not the man he needs to be.

When he fights against Nora’s hold, upset, and injured, and reeling from his failure, she doesn’t fight him. Lets him pull away to lean against the side of the building, says nothing as he fights against the angry tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. His breathing is erratic, he’s aware that it’s a combination of overwhelming emotions and the fact that he’s bleeding all over the damn place. The Boss steps forward, he knows she wants to help, get him a stimpack or at least guide him to the ground, but he’s overwhelmed. This might have been his last chance, and he blew it. So he snaps.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

She pulls back like he slapped her, and all her concern drains away, replaced by anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Sit the fuck down and shut up. I won’t let you bleed out and die because you’re upset with yourself.”

In all their months traveling together, the Boss has been angry a lot. She has every right to be. Dealing with the loss of her husband, her missing son, adjusting to the new world she woke up in, struggling through firefight after firefight with no hope or promise of a peaceful resolution has made her pissed, livid. He’s seen that anger directed at all sorts, but never at him. The reality of his actions comes crashing down, and his anger and fear is replaced with shame and guilt. Nora has done nothing but help him, support him, stand by his side and face the world. And he just treated her like garbage.

“I’m sorry.” He can’t look at her anymore, and he turns away, facing out in the street. He stands completely still until she steps forward again, allows her to maneuver him to the floor, to peel off his jacket and roll up his sleeve. There’s no pain when she slides the needle of the stimpack into his veins, nothing but sweet relief as the pain in his side lessens, and the burn from his shoulder starts to disappear. The uncomfortable silence that stretches out between them has him scrambling for something to say, but he can’t find the words. His mind is blank, only able to focus on his crushing failure. He hardly notices when she sets up a blood pack and a radaway.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Confusion pushes past everything else and he looks up at her, tilting his head back so he can see here under the brim of his hat. “Where are you going?”

For a moment she looks at him like he might actully be dumb, and it stings, but its gone as quickly as it shows. “I’m going back inside, to get the cure.”

“Alone?” He can’t help the concern that laces his question, she’s capable, but not uninjured at all. She took a few scrapes and hits as they made their way through the building, and without him to watch her back he’s not sure she’ll make it unscathed.

“Yes, alone, you’re in no condition to fight, and I’m pretty sure there were only a few more rooms left to clear.”

An internal battle rages inside Maccready. One side wants to argue, tell her that it’s too dangerous, that they can try again later, when he’s better, when he can watch her back. The other side wants to thank her, beg her to do what he’s not capable of doing, wants nothing more than to let her go and save his son. He can’t pick a side. Everything in him is screaming to save Duncan, terrified to lose him, but at the same time the thought of losing Nora has a heavy weight settling in his stomach, makes him feel sick. If she dies because of him, he’ll never forgive himself, but if she doesn’t go he might not have enough time to try again. It’s possible that he could lose them both.

In the end, he spends too much time wrestling with his own thoughts, and before he can protest she’s pulling his rifle into his lap, slapping his pistol down on the floor next to him, and dropping her hand onto his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, Mac, and I’ll be back soon.”

Suddenly, he remembers the terminal. “Wait!” She’ll already pulled away, nearly back to the door, and he carefully moves the line of tubbing coming from the blood pack to get to the second piece of paper he has. “This will get you into the elevator, you’ll have to find the terminal for it.”

There’s a gentleness he doesn’t see often from the Boss when she takes the password from him. Maccready’s hand closes around her wrist before he can think better of it, and he whispers, “please, be safe.”

“Always.” And then she’s gone, leaving him to sit outside while he recovers, unable to do anything but wait for her return.

Nora promised to be quick, to be back before he could even think to miss her, but after half an hour he starts to fret. He picks at the skin of his cuticles, pulling back hard enough to feel pain and draw blood. After 45 minutes he’s bitten his nails down to the quick and has started to chew on his cheek, ripping skin and tasting iron. By the time an hour has passed he’s back on his feet, blood pack empty, radaway gone, and another stimpack used up.

He’s pacing, debating whether or not to go back into the building, risk his life to make sure Nora is safe, when the door opens.

The Boss looks a little worse for wear, there’s a large gash across her forehead which has leaked blood down the side of her face and across her throat, she’s pale and unsteady, but her eyes are clear, a little rad-sickness, but not enough to put her down. Her clothes are a little askew, rips and tears from sharp nails and teeth, but nothing to be worried about. As soon as he sees the cloth-wrapped item in her hand, he stops taking a record of her injuries.

“Is that…?” Maccready’s voice is small, unsure, and something inside of him breaks when she nods her head and tells him yes.

Suddenly, it’s all too much, everything comes crashing down at once. The relief alone makes him feel like he took a mini nuke to the chest, and that combined with the feelings he’s been denying come together and leave him breathless. The next move he makes is not one he thinks about, it’s not one he considers for even a second. Without waiting for an input from his brain he stumbles forward, trapping the cure between Nora and his chests, and crashes his lips against hers, in a kiss that’s less than graceful.

She makes a startled noise, and tenses, but he doesn’t really hear or feel it, too consumed with trying to express not only his gratitude for her help, her support, but also the feelings of love and devotion he’s tried so hard to keep buried. His hands stay at his sides, this isn’t really about passion, it just is.

They’re connected for maybe a second before he pulls back, suddenly realizing what he’s just done. He fully expects Nora to castrate him, instead she looks dazed, shocked, amused. She’s still tightly holding onto Duncan’s cure, but she’s focused on him, and slowly her slack-jaw look fades away and a blush creeps across her cheeks. He’s still waiting for the bite of a blade to take away his favorite bits, and he stumbles to apologize.

“Oh shi-er- damn, Boss I’m- I didn’t-” but he did, “it’s just, I mean with everything, and you just-” she lets him stumble, her face back to normal, but still flushed with red. Finally he just spits out an apology and waits.

Nora shakes her head, the beginnings of a frown fighting with the beginnings of a smile, like she’s not really sure how she’s supposed to feel after his assault. Not really sure how she’s supposed to react. He’s really hoping it’s a positive reaction, because even if that was his most graceless kiss since he was 12, he’d really like to kiss her again. But if she doesn’t feel the same, that’s fine, well it’s not really, but he’ll lick his wounds in private after taking care of the cure, and maybe she’ll keep asking him to tag along.

“It’s okay, Mac, you’re feeling a lot right now,” understatement of the century, “let’s just get this where it needs to go. Daisy, right?”

He can’t seem to speak, his tongue feels too big for his mouth and he wants to say a million things. Thank you. I’m sorry. Can I kiss you again? Instead of any of those he just shakes his head.

With as much care as he’s ever seen her display, Nora places the wrapped Prevent in her bag, securing it with extra clothing to ensure it doesn’t get destroyed. Maccready watches her numbly, not really sure what to do with himself. Like always, the Boss takes charge, she hands him his own pack without a word and then tilts her head. “Let’s get the rest of our things,” she looks up at the sky, to the sun which is beginning its descent, “and try to get to Goodneighbor before nightfall.”

Dumbly, he follows, watching her back like he always has. Although, now that he thinks about it, she’s been watching his back, too. Maybe more than he ever has for her.

By the time they make it to Goodneighbor, Maccready is exhausted, both mentally and physically. Some of his energy comes back when he sees Daisy, and her excitement over their success gives him just enough to smile at her. And then he falls apart. Concern flashes quick across Daisy’s face when he chokes back a sob. He doesn’t understand, he’s elated, albeit tired and injured, but happy, so why is he crying? There’s nothing to be upset about.

Just like earlier, Nora comes to the rescue, with a few words to Daisy about checking in weekly for reports from the Caravan, she places a firm hand on his uninjured arm and leads him to the Rexford. A few of the guards on duty give him a questioning look, but Nora waves them off, and they relax, satisfied with the assurances from the vault dweller.

Some random drifter is running the front desk, but with a few honeyed words the Boss gets them a room, and a promise of a delivery of fresh sheets, at a discount. The pain in his side and shoulder are back, not enough for him to complain, but enough that he can focus on that, and not the tears still trying to escape down his cheeks.

Gently, so gently, Nora leads him into their room and sets him on the bed furthest from the door. Unceremoniously he drops onto the bed, forcing a wince out from the pain that sends through his ribs and hip. He finds his voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He’s managed to stop crying, but he still hiccups with tears, feeling more tired than he has in months.

“You’re overwhelmed, it happens when you bottle up your emotions,” she kneels down to tug off his boots and he doesn’t have it in him to protest, “eventually the bottle has to get emptied.” Carefully she helps him out of his duster, wary of his injuries, and her voice is oddly detached when she says her next piece. “It’s likely why you kissed me, too. All that relief hitting you and I was the source of it. S’why I’m not mad at you.”

Maccready jerks his head up from where he’s been staring at his hands, but Nora is turned away, taking much longer than she needs to to fold his jacket and place it on the dresser. She sounds disappointed, or is that just what he wants to hear? If she’s actually upset, then that means he has a chance, and by telling her that that’s not the reason he kissed her then maybe he’ll make her happy. Maybe she’ll agree to be his.

But if he’s wrong he’s just setting himself up for rejection, a painful one at that.

Is his pride more important to him than her? No. It’s not.

“I didn’t kiss you because you saved my son and I got over emotional.” Her back is still turned, and she tenses at his words, running her fingers over the course material of his dirty duster. “I kissed you because I’ve been wanting to for months, and-and,” he trails off looking for the right thing to say. “I’ve been wanting to for months and I guess this was just the last piece of the puzzle, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

There’s a guarded acceptance streaked across her features when she finally turns to look at him, jacket abandoned on the furniture. “What do you mean, Mac?”

He can’t maintain eye contact. Will his confession be too much? Should he stop while he’s ahead? No, she deserves to know, even if she doesn’t feel the same.

“I mean,” courage grips his heart, just enough that he’s able to meet her stare, “that I love you, Nora. And I kinda really would like to kiss you again.”

She steps forward, closing the distance between them in only a few long strides. Maccready has to tilt his head up to look at her, and when he does she’s smiling, blindingly bright right at him. “Say it again.”

So he does. “I love you.”

Then her lips are on his and he melts. Somewhere, distantly, he’s aware that she’s climbeing into his lap, being cautious so as to not irritate his injuries, and placing one hand on his uninjured shoulder. Her other reaches up to knock his cap off, flinging it somewhere behind him, so that she can tangle her fingers in his hair. His own hands come up to hold her by the hips, keeping her up so that her full weight doesn't settle onto his lap and cause him any pain.

They break for only a second, long enough for her to meet his eye. “I love you, too, Mac,” and then she’s back, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip and deepening their kiss.

It would be cliche to say that her affection drowned out all his hurt, it would also be untrue. But he would rather suffer in silence than push her away. All the times he nearly kissed her, or told her how he felt, run through his mind as he kisses her back, and he knows that they weren’t the right time. It feels right now, even as he’s distinctly aware that they both still need some medical attention, food, and a week’s worth of rest.

Nora pulls away, laughing a bit as he leans forward to follow her. That has him hissing as he pushes into his own side and upset his field dressings. “As much as I would love to keep going, we’re not exactly in the right shape or state of mind to continue.”

An argument forms, but dies before he can speak. He knows she’s right, and now that he’s focused on more than her lips on his and the way she felt perched on top of him, he can feel the ache from the feral bites, the headache from crying, and the exhaustion that he had managed to stash away as soon as she climbed into his lap. He yawns and she gives him a knowing look.

“You don’t have to use the second bed,” Maccready says, “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

Nora giggles, and it’s the sweetest thing he’s heard since Duncan first called him ‘daddy’. “Okay, let me get out of these filthy clothes, and I’ll be back.” Carefully she extracts herself from on top of him and moves towards the bathroom adjacent to their room. As he watches her go Maccready thinks that she was worth the wait.

And he can’t wait to help her save her son, just as she saved his.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it, finally got these two together. There might be a part three, but if there is it'll be a while down the line. I've got a couple fics in the middle of drafting, and two in the review process, so those will come first before any addition here.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought with a kudo or a comment. And, since I have to put this apparently, if you didn't enjoy please just don't comment, or find a way to say your piece that's not going to make you look like a total asshole. I will delete any derogatory or nasty comments.
> 
> However, if you did like, feel free to check out some of my other fics! Thank you.


End file.
